Sleep Never Comes Easy
by carroussella
Summary: There were so few black and white lines in their job, yet they had no choice but to draw boundaries between right and wrong with each decision they made. Spoilers for 2x03 "Clean Hands"


_**SLEEP NEVER COMES EASY**_

**Fandom**: Flashpoint  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Sam/Jules  
><strong>Category<strong>: Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+  
><em><strong>ONE-SHOT<strong>_  
><strong><br>Disclaimer:**As much as I'd love to, I don't own Flashpoint, and all characters remain property of the show's wonderful scriptwriters. All original characters and plots are mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Synopsis: **There were so few black and white lines in their job, yet they had no choice but to draw boundaries between right and wrong with each decision they made. Spoilers for 2x03 "Clean Hands"

**Author's Note:** Trying out a different voice from my other FP/Jam ficlets; this is very different from the rest of the pieces I've been writing (and a little longer!). It was a little difficult to write, but I think it came out okay in the end. Would love to hear what you think :)

_Edit 6/28 - re-reading and spotting spelling & grammar mistakes *roar* and thanks to SYuuri who pointed out that it's Semple. I need to up my name game, really._

* * *

><p>It was close to midnight when she heard the key in the lock; the door to her townhouse squeaking a little as it opened, before the telltale click of someone closing it gently.<p>

She'd been watching TV earlier – God knows that was probably all she could do these days – so she knew exactly what had gone down at the airport today. She knew it had to be a difficult call, and it was hard for her, sitting on her bed and enjoying a hot chocolate, wondering how her team was doing in the aftermath.

Footsteps echoed throughout, getting louder as they ascended the stairs towards her room. She'd turned off the lights about an hour ago, closing her eyes to the harsh light and wanting the darkness simply to engulf her thoughts. She didn't plan on sleeping, not yet at least. Not until she knew he was all right.

The door to the room flung open, and what little light from the corridor filtered in. He hadn't bothered to turn on any of the lights, choosing to make the trek to the room in darkness.

She turned towards him as his large frame filled the doorway, and he paused at the sight of her sitting upright in bed.

"Hey," Sam called softly. "I thought you were asleep."

Jules shook her head. "I was waiting for you."

"You didn't have to do that," he approached the bed as she moved towards its edge, intent on meeting him halfway.

"I wanted to," she whispered as their lips met.

Sam held onto her, drowning in her sweetness. She tasted like hot chocolate and smelled like roses, a far cry from the death he probably smelled like.

Jules drew away, breaking the kiss, but she reached up to cup his face tenderly in her hands. "Are you okay?"

His answer was in his refusal to meet her eyes. Jules willed herself to be patient. Sam was a tough nut to crack; thanks to his military father, he wasn't one to share his feelings openly. Any emotion was a sign of weakness, and it had taken a long time for him to open up to her. Even now, he hardly said what he truly felt unless she prompted him.

She started stroking his face instead, letting her touch reassure him. Feeling his skin under hers reassured her. It scared her every time he was out in the field, even more so now that she couldn't be physically present to watch his back. Sitting at home, watching the news, had infused her with such helplessness and she didn't like it.

Sam turned into her touch, closing his eyes and letting her caress wash over him. He was alive. It had been a close call today, and while he never for a moment doubted that his team would keep him safe, the thought of never seeing Jules again did cross his mind. It had been her face that had kept him calm, her smile that kept him focused on getting out alive. There was no room for missteps, not when he had to go home to her.

And he was feeling guilty too; guilty that a cop had died while a murderer lived. Donna had made the right call and she would go home with clean hands, but it didn't erase the fact that life was shades of gray.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was a whisper, but it carried throughout the room. He started shaking his head, then stopped.

"I don't know how to start," he told her, realizing that he didn't want to have to face it all on his own. That was the thing about Jules. She never pressed him, but something about the way she gave him space always made him want to draw closer and spill everything to her. She listened, and she would understand.

He settled back into bed, kicking off his shoes and leaning against the headboard. Beside him, Jules draw herself up, lying on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was beating fast, no doubt still working on overdrive from the adrenaline rush of the day's events.

Sam wrapped his arm around her, ever mindful of her injury. He began stroking her arm just as she placed her hands on his chest. They lay in silence for a long time, listening to their own breathing.

"One of the subjects held me hostage today," Sam began after a while, breaking the silence.

"What?" Jules half-rose from her position, then hissed in pain as she aggravated her injury. That hadn't been in the news at all.

Sam heard her intake of pain and immediately shifted his position to make her more comfortable. He continued stroking her arm, this time in an attempt to calm and comfort her.

"He was the father of one of the victims," he told her. "He planned the whole thing with Simple. Taking me was a way to distract the team so Semple could have her chance."

_Damn._ Jules felt the tears welling up as she contemplated how close she'd come to losing him that day. She hadn't counted on her Special Ops hero being in such a vulnerable position.

Her hands shook, and Sam grasped them tightly in his bigger ones. "I'm alright, Jules," he told her.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, blue eyes staring intently into brown. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stay out of trouble the next time, but really, who was she to tell him that when she did the same all the time? They were SRU officers, for crying out loud.

But she was also a woman. A woman in love with a man, and a woman afraid of losing him. And today she had come dangerously close to losing him, and that fact hit far too close to home.

"I don't blame him though," Sam continued. "I felt kinda bad for him, actually."

Jules could do nothing but stare at him, her vision blurring with unshed tears. Sam reached out to wipe them away, his smile sad.

"I should be furious, I guess. At myself, for getting caught. At him, for using me as a bargaining chip. At Semple, for orchestrating the whole thing and making use of a fellow officer. But all I saw was a father whose life had fallen apart when his daughter died; a father who just wanted justice to be served."

"And all I can think is: Semple shouldn't have had to die for the crimes someone else committed. She was a good cop, just blinded by grief and anger."

"Our job isn't black and white," Jules murmured, her voice breaking.

"I know," Sam sighed. "But sometimes you wonder what good is it all when the bad people win."

She had no answer to that, so Jules merely kept quiet. It was difficult to quantify their jobs, even more so when you were trained to talk down a subject and to empathize with their situation. There were so few black and white lines in their job, yet they had no choice but to draw boundaries between right and wrong with each decision they made.

Sam sighed again, his chest heaving deeply with the effort. There were no simple answers in their line of work, and they always lived with the what-ifs. They made split second decisions that they couldn't afford to second-guess in the field, but they constantly lived with the demons of those decisions afterwards.

He didn't want to think about that anymore tonight, although he knew the nightmares were sure to come. Holding Jules even more closely to him, he savored the warmth of her body flush against him and gently turned them around so they were lying next to each other, facing the other.

"Go to sleep, Jules," he whispered, knowing that her medication had probably started kicking in a while ago and she was just fighting it for his sake.

She shook her head as he stroked her head; the silky strands a strange comfort to him right now. "You need your rest," he gently chastised her, closing his eyes to demonstrate to her that the subject wasn't up for debate, and that he too, wanted rest.

He knew that was a lie, because if there was one thing he was certain about in this job, it was that sleep never came easy.


End file.
